Plum

Plum the Pug, lives in Paris with his human mom, Juliet, a student at the renowned culinary school, Le Cordon Bleu. When a van carrying wine (after all, it is Paris) hits little Plum, his life and Juliet’s, changes dramatically. This funny, canine coming-of-age story features Plum, the talking dog, who not only becomes human in his thoughts but is magically gifted with a palate to rival that of any highly esteemed French chef. And this is where his adventure begins as Plum decides to become a Paris restaurant critic, food blogger and author. Aided by Juliet, and the handsome Tomas, Juliet’s chef instructor at Le Cordon Bleu, Plum takes on the highly charged and cruelly vicious Paris food scene. Plum quickly becomes an international sensation and global media star, after all he is a talking dog. But too much wine, food, TMZ and Access Hollywood-fueled fame help send his celebrity excesses and life spinning wildly out of control. Falling in love was not supposed to happen either. Finding himself at rock bottom, Plum hopes he’ll get a second chance at a normal life. He wonders if the uneasy truth behind his ability to speak will ever come out. And if getting a perfectly clean slate will, truly, give him exactly what he needs to be comfortable in his own, furry, skin.

Don’t expect me to
bark, do tricks or chase after a chew toy because “Je ne fais pas le chien.” If
you don’t speak French that means, “I don’t do dog.”

Yes.
I am a dog. A pug. And I can talk. I suggest that you deal with that
immediately so we can move on because I have a story to tell.

Ten
seconds should be enough time to process that information. I’ll use the time to
reply to Anthony Bourdain’s text. He’s been trying to set up an interview with
me since he arrived in Paris three days ago. He
wants me to take him on a tour of the underbelly of Paris for his new show.
I’ve been telling him I don’t do that kind of thing anymore, but he’s
persistent.

Okay,
time’s up.

My
name is Plum, shortened from Plumley, shortened from Plumleigh, which is of
Anglo-Saxon origin. I’m fawn-colored, with a muscular cobby chest, rose petal
ears, a face with an incredible black mask, extra long tongue, double curl tail
and I weigh a trim 18 pounds.

Besides being able to talk, I can read,
write, reason, make decisions and think.

And,
of course, eat.

Most
importantly, I can taste. Savor is an even better word. Pugs tend not to savor
or even chew food. They just wolf it down like a pig, whatever it is, and come
back for more.

I,
on the other hand, have a heightened sense of smell, even for dogs, and
miraculous taste buds.But I’m
best known as a restaurant critic and food writer.